Catch and Fall
by Cuban Sombrero Gal
Summary: Gideon glances at Marlene one last time – her unruly black curls, the glossy lips, the smear of blood marring her pale left cheek – and then he falls. Oneshot, Sirius/Marlene, Marlene/Gideon


**Catch and Fall**

"So you _do _like Gideon then?" Sirius Black drawled, taking a long puff from his cigarette before extinguishing it with a casual, yet elegant jab at the ashtray. Marlene threw her head back and laughed in reply; it tumbled along the table like a rolling wave, coming to a stop in front of Gideon.

"Of course not. Don't… don't get me wrong, Gid -" she _knew _he hated that nickname, but like everyone else, chose to ignore his pleas "- you're a topnotch bloke… but you're not wild enough for me." She took another drag from her own cigarette, which was no doubt bummed off Sirius who in turn lived of his measly inheritance and the money that Potter and his wife were using to buy a house, and grinned at him.

"I don't know, Fabian's a lot less wild than me," he joked finally, because the easiest way to say himself was to divert the attention elsewhere; being an Order member wasn't just about surviving out there, but in here as well. They all knew it wasn't true, but most of the members scattered around the table decided to humour him anyway.

"Really?" Sirius asked, and from the insane look in his smoking grey eyes - just the sort that would turn Marlene on, Gideon thought bitterly – and the titter from Pettigrew, who sat on Black's left, it was obvious that he had something planned. "You mean to say that there's someone who does something more pathetic than sit on their arse all day and moon after women they'll never get."

Beside him, Gideon felt Fabian stiffen on his behalf, his taut hand muscles clinging to the table leg in a valiant effort to control his temper. He nudged his brother, as if to say _it isn't worth it, _because really, it wasn't. Sirius was just bored after so many false alarms about Voldemort's whereabouts and having his motorbike forcibly removed by the Ministry of Magic (something about Muggle law enforcement and baby names, apparently), and was therefore looking for any opportunity to wind someone up. Gideon told himself that he wouldn't be the first one to bite.

"I don't know, Sirius," Marlene replied, giving Dorcas, who sat at the other end of the table with two hands clasped firmly around a steaming mug of coffee, an innocent wink. "I've heard Fabian's pretty good in bed."

"Oh, really. That's news to me."

"Well, if the rumours are true, anyway…"

The Order of the Phoenix was an intricate network of secrets, rumours and lies, much like a spider's web, and sometimes it irritated Gideon that he knew more about the explicit details of his older brother's sex life than he did about Voldemort's latest plans in Southern Albania were. No one here could keep a secret if their life depended upon it, and the sad reality was: someday, it would.

It was obvious to Gideon that his brother was not far from breaking point; he could see sweat pouring from Fabian's face forehead and collecting on his skin, fragile raindrops of perspiration settling on a vast leaf. Dorcas was going to be no help defending her virtue either that much was clear. Gideon wasn't quite sure if it was humanly possibly for someone to melt into a table like a chameleon, but Dorcas Meadowes had performed several miracles on the battlefield, and maybe she could do it now too.

"I don't really think that's appropriate, Marlene."

"Why?" She jabbed her wand sharply at her glass, refilling it with Firewhiskey, before tossing Sirius the bottle. "We were only joking, Gid, unless… you're not frigid, are you?"

All eyes, except for Moody's (which had been removed for cleaning _again), _were focused upon Gideon as he responded, and the attention was unnerving.

"Of course not. But Fabian would just happen to be my _brother." _There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to process _exactly _how disturbing that must be, and then the conversation struck up again, a simultaneous explosion of fireworks in the form of laughter and jokes.

Gideon just sat back, oddly disassociated from it all; he felt like a stranger observing a world of dirty jokes – "What's the difference between a pregnant woman and a light bulb?" he heard Black ask, spitting out the question between mouthful of blackened ash that looked and smelt like death. "What?" "You can't unscrew the woman… sorry Lily, didn't mean it… a friend told me." – and Firewhiskey.

Marlene surveyed both him and Fabian curiously, deep brown eyes poking out from behind the curly black fringe that, honest to Circe and Merlin, reminded him of a poodle. He could feel her gaze; it was warm on his back like coals in a fire and bodies pressed together and _he really did not want to go there. _At least Fabian had calmed down now, he decided – Gideon might be the younger brother but he was still the one responsible for picking up the pieces whenever Fabian's outbursts led to accidental magic and reprimands from whatever idiot was sending out the Ministry owls this week.

"You know, maybe there's a wild side in all of us," Marlene pondered. Her voice was so heavily layered with the scent of Sirius' horrible cigarettes and Firewhiskey that Gideon felt as though he was choking on her words. "Maybe you just need to find yours."  
"Maybe."

"Have you tried asking Fabian? There is a reason that the girls like him, after all." Every female occupant at the table, even those who, like Lily Potter and Hestia Jones, were happily married, blushed. Redness spread across their cheeks, flooding their faces like ice melting on a warm summer's day.

Gideon could feel his face changing too; it became a signal fire of burning reds as Marlene grinned at him, as if to say she'd meant no harm, it was only a joke, like everything else about him.

Sometimes, he hated being Fabian's younger brother. And, as Sirius' maniacal laughter rang in his ears and Marlene swarm in front of his eyes, a colourful haze of pale white skin and blood red tattoos that seemed a part of her – as though removing her dragon and her Muggle football team was to remove a part of her soul – he felt that this was one of those times.

**--**

"So when are you going to tell her?" Fabian asked as they trudged through the dreary suburbs of London, sometime after midnight. Occasionally, there was a light flickering in a window, the result of a workaholic writing up last minute reports or a teenager who didn't quite grasp the concept of _lights out. _But mostly, there was a blackness that was broken only by a smattering of streetlamps every few blocks and the sound of their footsteps, completely out of rhythm and time.

"Tell who what?" Gideon asked finally, deciding that lying was the safe way out, and regretting it the moment his mouth jammed shut around a mouthful of foggy autumn air. Ask him to recite Jupiter's moons or the twelve uses of dragon blood and he'd pass any exam, but he couldn't spin deceit if you placed the yarn and needles in front of him.

"When are you going to tell Marlene that you like her?"

"When Black disappears." He paused for a moment, pretending to contemplate that. "Or gets murdered by alcohol poisoning. Either one."

"Gideon, you may be my brother and all, but you really need to grow a pair."

Gideon just nodded along, because the horrible thing was, his brother was right.

They plodded along for a while longer, encased in an awkward silence that enveloped both of them like a tornado; it chewed away at them from the inside, discarding everything meaningless that existed in their minds like apple cores and then spitting their most pertinent questions into the night.

"What do _you _think I should do, Fabian?" It was the last thing he'd ever wanted to ask, but he'd seen the way Fabian had the women of the Order – flighty, tempestuous women at that – under his spell.

"Why are you asking me?" Fabian replied, playing what Gideon recognised as a mind game all too well. Give an answer, receive one in return…

"Because… I need your help."

"And what makes you think I can do that?" The gentle teasing in his voice would have made anyone else label him as cruel, but Gideon knew his brother couldn't ask anyone anything without cracking a grin.

"Marlene seemed to have a high opinion of your ability."

"That's bull, Gideon. Marlene don't know nothing." He inserted a key into the front door, twisting it this way and that; living with a Muggle landlord in his dilapidated flat saved them quite a lot of money, but Fabian and Gideon both hated the fact that everything took twice as long without magic.

"Well, I want her to know about me," Gideon said.

"Without looking like Black, or possibly Potter – like everyone else she had the biggest crush on him 'til she found out that he was infatuated with Lily – you haven't got a snowball's chance in hell, little brother."

"You know, I've never really understood that expression," Gideon replied, and with that, he flicked the dim light that hung in the hallway out.

**--**

"Gid, wake up."

He rolled over, mumbling and groaning incoherently, until his eyes connected with the fluorescent red lights on his alarm clock. 4:08 am.

"Go away, Fabian." He retreated further beneath the blankets, trapped in a cocoon of warmth that surrounded him like a turtle's shell.

"The Order needs us," his brother replied. "Get up."  
"Give me two minutes," Gideon groaned.

When Gideon emerged from his room, wand firmly stuffed into his jeans pocket – he was convinced that most of what Moody said was paranoid bull, anyway – he came face to face with a stern looking Fabian, who was tapping his watch.

"That was three minutes."  
"Oh do shut up." He delivered his older brother a light punch on the air – it was only here, at home, when he didn't feel so entirely overwhelmed by his place in the world, that he could act like everyone else did around Fabian.

When they arrived at the battle scene, a few miles south of Heathrow Airport, the air was already ablaze with curses. Gideon ducked under a blinding jet of red light, quickly scanning the area for an easy target.

"Fabian, duck!" he screeched, seeing a jet of green light whistle its way towards his brother. "Duck!"

"Thanks Gid," Fabian replied, twisting his body around with surprising agility and jumping over the low flying curse.

"Don't call me that." Here, Gideon's inhibitions could fall away too. The battle was so hopelessly fast and furious that he had no time to worry about whether or not he matched up to his older brother; the only way that could be determined was by who walked out dead or alive.

"Hey Gid!" Fabian called, darting left and right between more curses. Gideon watched in amazement at the steady, accurate flick of his wrist as he fired back, his curse hitting someone (was it Dolohov?) in the small of the back and causing them to fall, plummeting towards the ground like a fallen eagle, their arms spreading by wings. Firing a few quick spells of his own, Gideon wondered if this why he loved Marlene – she could be this flawless and ready to fight, be it a battle of wits or stares of death. While he could put on an act of Shakespearean proportions, all Marlene had to do was light a cigarette and spread her lips and she would be the star of any play they performed.

Gideon watched her now, her anger flooding over her face into her arms; they shook with fury as she struggled to keep her wand steady the way they'd been taught – not that Marlene McKinnon was ever much for lessons anyway, unless they involved how best to get yourself out of a hole you'd dug without magic.

"Gideon, you may be hopelessly besotted with the girl, but you're about to get you ass handed to you on a -" Fabian broke off as a large gust of air forced its way into his mouth, but Gideon followed the gaze of his brother's wide eyes, so like his own, and quickly spun to one side. His body was pushed up against a wall of the building; there was a body at his feet and an aura of defeat in the air.

Gideon quickly jumped over the corpse, careful not to glance at the mangled face in case of nausea. Once, he would have done anything for his comrade – he thought it was Peter Pettigrew, and he quite liked the quiet Marauder, because Peter was much like himself, hiding from the spotlight – but now, he knew that selflessness was second to irrational bravery and winning the war.

The battle was flowing around him like a liquid pool, and Gideon scrambled back into the thick of it. Fabian was dueling one on one with two Death Eaters, the little of their faces that were visible were twisted into leers; Gideon tightened his grip, and fired the first spell that came to mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

"What the bollocks is _that, _Gid? This is a war, in case you hadn't noticed."

The two brothers stared at each other over the shoulders of their opponents, their similar faces mirroring even their expressions of confusion and worry and regret.

"It was nothing," Gideon shouted, chancing another glance at Marlene. "Stupefy!" He spun around, still keeping her in his sights, and fired yet another curse at… Travers? Between the dusky half-light and the conformity of their masks, Gideon had no way of telling who was who, although he noticed with some relief that more Death Eaters had fallen than before.

"Oh, Gid."

"Fabian?" Gideon replied, shooting another Stunner at Travers, whose body toppled in Marlene's direction; she gave him a disdainful glance, her slightly too-plump lips curling in disgust as she stepped over his body, chasing after Black in pursuit of Severus Snape.

"I know how you can snag Marlene. Though why you'd want to… I've heard she's into the catch and drop kind of relat -"

"Just tell me how, Fabian," Gideon snapped, his temper getting the better of them. A jet of red light snaked out of his wand, the result of some sort of strange accidental magic, hitting Travers in the back again. The – well, Gideon wouldn't say he was poor – man heaved himself up on his arms, before falling to the ground again in a dead slump. Both brothers watched in amusement, before turning back to fighting the four or five remaining Death Eaters.

"You need to get her to watch you fight."

Gideon couldn't help himself. "How the bloomin' hell is that going to help me?"

Under any other circumstances, he would have simply been a fish out of water, his jaw plummeting into the dirt and his eyes as wide as saucers. Instead, he gave his brother a smirk, as though to say _for once, I'm better than you. _This battle, like every battle before it, had changed him – it was only here know, in this time of frenzied emotions and ducking curses that he could ever be the sort of brother Fabian would be proud of, the sort of wild man Marlene might just fall for.

"O-oh," he said slowly, jumping a few feet into the air to avoid a puddle of blood, congealed and slowly oozing its way into the dirt – the resulting colour was even more sinister than the crimson reds that had come to haunt all the Order after the last few months. "I get it."

"Good."

With that, the two brothers finished off the last of the Death Eaters still stumbling about in the mud and decay of the battle, and marched off to find Marlene.

**--**

Both Gideon and Fabian fall two weeks later in a cloud of Marlene's smoke; it obscures whoever delivers the final blow as it clears. The night is clear, filled with a crisp winter chill that shakes Gideon to the bone. There is a laugh from Marlene as she snorts – women like her don't giggle, no matter how much the occasion calls for it – which quickly turns to a hacking cough from the cigarette she still keeps perched between her lips, and then a strangled scream as they fall, fall, _fall. _

Gideon tries to scream, but no sound comes out. Beside him, Fabian writhes in pain, his once identical eyes now magnified several times in horror and in shock. Marlene's face flashes before him, and he wonders if this is _quite _what Fabian meant. This is not heroism, dying like this is not attractive, Marlene is –

- everything he's ever wanted, and everything he could never have. The irony is quite wonderful really, he thinks, he loves her, and he despises her, and he's going to die now, at the pinnacle of… everything.

Gideon glances at Marlene one last time – her unruly black curls, the glossy lips, the smear of blood marring her pale left cheek – and then he falls.

No matter how much Gideon wishes, she does not catch him. He supposes this is what he gets for loving a woman who could never fall for him, no matter how many times he would catch her.This is what he gets for loving Marlene.

* * *

**Firstly a big shout out to three people: lyin', Gaby Black and Lady Altair. You have these three wonderful ladies to thank for my current First Order obsession, and while my Gideon is very different to theirs, I just had to thank them for their inspiration. :D**

**In other notes - this was written for the weasleyesque community on livejournal, where I took on the prompt "Fabian and Gideon's time in the Order and how they died." I went almost disgustingly liberal with the prompt, but this was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it too. **


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